Chapter 108
Susan
Sunday
I’m still at the hospital, but with Maeve now, keeping her company while Leesa and Samir get something to eat. Her face changes as soon as her parents leave, and she grabs my hand.
“Susan.” She says my name in an urgent whisper.
“They’re saying Nika drove at me because she thinks I spiked her lunch with nuts.
That I tried to kill her.” Her eyes tear up.
“I hate her, but I’d never do that, no way.
She was my best friend once. Like, I’d never do that to anyone, even my worst enemy.
” A sad smile. “Which she also is, of course. But I’m really scared Greta did it. ”
“What do you mean?” I’m stalling now, trying to work out what to say.
“She saw my laptop.” She reddens. “I was googling, stupid stuff. I’d never have done it. But I’m scared it gave her the idea…”
“She didn’t.” Relief floods through me. I know it wasn’t Greta, and now I know it wasn’t Maeve. “I swear to you, she didn’t. We’ve talked about it. It might have been a kid in the class…I heard some guy posted on Snapchat about putting nuts in someone’s lunch.”
Maeve lets out a breath. “Are you sure it wasn’t Greta?”
I reach and gently push her hair out of her eyes. “Maeve, I’m certain. I’ve known Greta all my life, and you couldn’t find a better person. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Her eyes bloom with tears. “OK. OK. I feel better.” She smiles and gulps a sob. “Please promise me you’ll never tell her I thought that about her?”
“I promise.”
One more secret, but one worth keeping.
· · ·
Maeve falls asleep and I slip outside to call Jon and check in on Bella.
A figure by the corridor entrance catches my attention.
Celeste. Tall, imposing as ever, her red hair gleaming in the evening sunlight.
But on closer inspection, her structured navy dress looks crinkled and there are purple shadows visible under her eyes, despite carefully applied concealer.
My mind goes back to our phone conversation last week.
Her anger, my embarrassment, her request for a public apology.
Our eyes meet, just briefly, then she looks down. I take a step toward her.
She clears her throat and looks up again. There’s nothing imposing about her, I see now. She looks…broken.
“Is…is Maeve doing…Is she OK?” It all spins across her face—horror, sadness, regret, resignation.
“She’s fine. A broken leg, but she’s doing OK.”
Her shoulders sag. A sob shudders out. “Oh, thank god.”
I take another step toward her. “Is Nika OK?”
Her face crumples as she shakes her head.
“I’m so sorry. Susan, I’m so, so sorry for what she did.”
On impulse and to my surprise, I find myself holding out my arms to her, pulling her into a hug.
Another sob escapes Celeste’s throat and now I’m crying too. For all of us. For the children, trying to fit in, trying to navigate, trying to survive. For the adults, trying our best.
Celeste pulls away, her face streaked with tears.
“And Bella? Is Bella OK?”
“Bella’s perfect. She’s safe at home with Jon.”
· · ·
Bella is perfect, despite what she’s been through.
Jon and me, though, our marriage—I guess that’s over.
We both know; we just haven’t said it. Whatever thoughts I had of not confronting it, it’s clear now that there’s no coming back from his affair.
There’s an irony there somewhere, and it strikes me as I stand here hugging Celeste in the hospital corridor.
He’ll finally be free to see his mistress—only his mistress, of course, is dead. And still, nobody knows who killed her.